Playing with Knives
by keiranfletcher
Summary: In the midst of the Dominion War, a young Starfleet officer annoys a large number of Klingons. Sito interjects, bringing trouble down on herself- and her formidable commanding officer. Continuing the timeline established in "Sun and Water."


_In the midst of the Dominion War, a young Starfleet officer finds herself on the wrong end of a hoard of angry Klingons. Sito interferes, bringing trouble down on her own head- and that of her formidable commanding officer. Continuing the timeline established in "Sun and Water." _

_2374_

_Starbase 152_

"The Federation was once a strong unity of warrior races, but now it is a bloated, simpering old woman that has devoured star systems like so many gagh until it can move no more. If it were not for the Klingon Empire, Earth and Vulcan and Andor would all be laid waste by now, and yet still they think they can lead us by the nose to do whatever they wish. They think they can win the war and go back to our old alliance as though nothing has happened. They refuse to admit that we had the vision to see what the Cardassian Union was becoming, and to do something about it! If it had not been for our action, a stronger Cardassia would have joined with the Dominion and laid the Quadrant waste! The Klingon people are strong, and it is we who safeguard the known worlds, with or without the Feder-"

At that moment, a fist smashed into the Klingon general's nose, blinding him, followed a millisecond later with an elbow driven into his gut. When he realised with horror as he fell off the raised area of the tavern occupied by his warriors that one of his feet was not following him, he tried to twist sideways- too slowly. Tamar's boot was hooked behind General Torghn's left boot spike. His ankle snapped.

Despite the cumulative pain and shock, Torghn reached automatically for his d'k'tagh. Tamar's kindjal1 was at his throat before the General could raise his arm.

Tamar took the d'k'tagh and squatted down to hold his eyes, ignoring the angry warriors now surrounding them.

"You battle-hungry swine tossed the Cardassians right into the Dominion's lap! You destroyed the civilian government, you practically put Dukat in power, and you damned well played into the Founders' hands every step of the way, and guess what? You killed _my_ friends to do it. So no, we won't go back to the alliance the way it was. You will be where you belong, licking our boots until you've made restitution for what you've done. The Federation saved _you_, not the other way around, and now Federation medicine is going to heal your ankle."

Tamar stood up abruptly, elbowing the warrior who was moving in behind her and slashing his knife arm. "Any Klingon who says differently will have to face me."

"Whatever you say," a Klingon captain said, stepping forward.

A short, blond-haired blur intervened, catching his knife-arm as he lunged, flipping him on his back, snapping his wrist and taking the d'k'tagh in one movement. Sito rounded on the other Klingons and barked a series of vicious insults and rebukes in Klingonese. Tamar had experienced Klingons mostly in combat. She had never seen them skulk away like whipped dogs.

When they had gone, carrying off their general, Tamar turned to examine her tiny saviour. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. I shouldn't have attacked them like that."

Sito's glower immediately disappeared, replaced by a gentler expression. "I understand. It's easy to listen to them go on about their glory when it isn't written in your friends' blood. I might do the same if I heard a Cardassian boasting about killing mine."

"You're that Maquis, aren't you? I'm Tamar, Tamar Khitiri. Thanks for saving my life."

"Glad to. Sito Jaxa."

"Where'd you learn to swear like that?"

Sito grinned shyly. "Just something I heard once."

"So, Sito-"

"Jaxa."

"Jaxa, if you know about Klingons, what happens now? I mean, after I buy you a drink to celebrate your victory, and my not being dead."

"Well, it's not so simple. You have one d'k'tagh, I have the other, and that means we have an honourable way out. The knives are like hostages. They represent personal honour, so we trade honour for vengeance. When they come looking for us, we give the knives back, and they have to forget the whole thing."

"Sounds good to me."

"That was the easy part. Then come the marriage proposals."

"Marriage proposals?"

"Marriage proposals. With bad poetry. And barrels of blood wine. And raw haunches of meat. And singing."

"So, I basically spat in the face of their empire and you're saying what, they find that-"

"Irresistibly attractive. Not what you did, but how you did it."

Tamar ordered two Saurian brandies. "So, short of selecting an eligible man in the next few hours..."

"The important thing is to make it clear that it's against your religion to marry a Klingon."

"And that works?"

"It did for me. They may check, though."

"Let them. It _is _against my religion. If it doesn't work?"

"Usually, the best thing for more persistent suitors is to ignore them. That takes awhile. Or tell them that you could never marry anyone who isn't strong enough to eat as much spicy food as you can."

"Spicy food? I can do that. That works?"

"Most Klingon food is bland, raw meat. A little _hasperat_ and you can almost see the steam coming out their ears. Whatever you do, the most important thing is not to hurl heavy objects or fight them physically. That's taken as a sign of great interest."

"Oh brother."

"Yeah." Sito sipped her drink pensively.

"Out of curiosity, what did you say to them? I was sure we were dead."

"Well, let's just say it helps to understand Klingon psychology. If you insult _them_, they'll attack you. If you define their _actions _as cowardly, they respond differently."

"What he said about the Federation-"

"He was right. He was right. And yeah, that stung too."

***

_Later, Sito's Quarters, USS Forge_

_I could have minded my own business. I could have slept tonight. But no, I had to go and be a hero._

"But how does so small a Bajoran learn to fight so well? Even the Jem'Hadar cannot stand against my captain, and you subdue him like a rodent! You must have been raised by Klingons!"

"I did learn the mokbara with Commander Worf for a time, but now I mostly spar with a Vulcan."

"A Vulcan?" the Klingon said doubtfully. "Pacifist martial arts... And who is this Vulcan who trains you so well?"

"Commodore Saavik."

"Saavik!" His eyes lit up. "I have heard of Saavik. A legendary warrior! It is rumoured she has Romulan fire in her blood. Is she as formidable as they say?"

"More than anyone I've ever met. I've seen her take on Jem'Hadar in hand-to-hand combat five at a time. They couldn't move her. She just stood there- as they flew in every direction."

"I must meet her! Surely you would introduce your new house-brother to this redoubtable warrior!"

_What was it Tamar said? 'Oh brother.'_

_***_

"Am I to understand that this-" Saavik indicated the group of unconscious or moaning Klingons on the edge of the _Forge_'s Rec Deck mat- "was your doing?"

"I'm sorry Commodore. There was a- well- an _incident_ on the starbase."

"An incident."

"Yes Commodore. Some Klingon general was going on about how the Klingons invaded Cardassia to save the quadrant."

"And you... objected."

"Well, actually, one of the tactical officers off the Pilgrim got there first. She needed some help with her exit strategy..."

"And this 'help' involved the physical... discomfiture of the Klingons involved."

"Well, there were also some bruised egos, sir."

"I fail to see in what way this incident precipitated the invasion of the Recreation Deck by the aforesaid Klingons intent on challenging me to various physical contests."

"Well, I didn't mean for this to happen, sir. There were these Klingons coming to my quarters one after another."

"If your safety was in jeopardy, why did you not call security?"

"It wasn't like that. There was blood wine and poetry and lingtas, and a bunch that just wanted to make me a member of their Houses. I only told one of them that you were training me, because he asked. I knew I shouldn't have said it, the moment he left my quarters, but..."

Saavik raised a placating hand. "I understand."

"You do?"

"I am not unfamiliar with Klingon proclivities with regard to strong women. If there are more Klingons who require diversion from courtly pursuits, I will make myself available to... 'thrash' them."

"I think that was just about all of them, sir, but thanks anyway. Commodore... I _am_ sorry. I didn't mean to put you in this position, or abuse your friendship. I do value it."

"You are incapable of abusing it. A slip of the tongue under pressure is, as the humans say, 'spilt milk.' Furthermore, since it seems to have given the crew an emotional outlet, it has not been an entirely unproductive activity. I do have one question however."

"Yes, Commodore?"

"When you entered, the crew was placing wagers, using a system of odds that did not seem to follow any logical pattern."

Sito was unable to keep her impish grin at bay. "They were, uh, seconds, sir."

"Seconds."

"You know- seconds until you did in each one."

"Am I to understand the Klingons were given no odds at all? I find that very disturbing. Clearly the crew's faith in my abilities is so inflated that it must inevitably be disappointed."

"It's not that, sir," Sito said earnestly. "They're throwing in their lot with you. They would rather devise a system to let all of them bet on you than any of them potentially win the entire pot betting against you."

Saavik was quiet for a moment. "I see." She turned her head to look out at the stars. "They are a fine crew. They learn quickly, they listen, they look out for the welfare of their comrades. They endure."

"They're becoming a family. Our family. It happens in desperate times."

"Not always," Saavik said, thinking of her childhood on Hellguard, and the constant struggle of each child against all the others. "I thought after my Romulan captivity in stasis that I would not find another ship with a crew such as this. I thought that such things could no longer happen. I was wrong."

"Martial arts tomorrow, sir?"

"Eighteen thirty. I will teach you a new form- to enable you to deal with future Klingon suitors."

"Yes sir."

1 Georgian belt knife.


End file.
